


Dealing in their own way

by me_midget (gin_tonic)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hds_beltane, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/me_midget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus didn't know how it had come to this. Potter and him. Well, he knew how it had started. But other than that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dealing in their own way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unbroken_halo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/gifts).



> The absolutely wonderful drachenmina, who I owe at least a plum cake and a gazillion thanks for helping me out on such short notice. <3
> 
> unbroken_halo, I hope you enjoy the fic – it might not be a novel-length fic you can just delve into, but this bunny wanted to be short and quick. :) It's got Snape dealing with legally aged witches and wizards returning to Hogwarts in it, though, so I hope you like it.

It had all started when Potter had returned to Hogwarts for his 8th year. Severus should have been prepared for what was to come – at least in a way. At least a little bit. He had anticipated that every single person in the castle, including him, would be traumatized and that everyone would be dealing in their own way. For Severus it was a combination of drinking and working – first as a teacher, then as a potions master. Merlin knew they could use all the healing draughts and flasks of Sleep Draught they could possibly get. He'd work until his vision started swimming and only then would he return to his chambers for a drink before falling into bed. He fared well with that method – or so he thought. Exhausted, moderately intoxicated sleep was a good way to escape from reality and if only he was busy enough during the day, Severus knew he wouldn't have time to brood and think.

He hadn't anticipated, however, how Potter would be dealing with everything. Potter was one of those unable to sleep. But contrary to many of his peers, he refused to take a potion to aid his rest, the stubborn idiot. Instead, Potter had taken to roaming the school at night, wandering through the hallways he'd last seen in battle. There were many parts of Hogwarts that still needed to be repaired – chunks of the outer walls were still missing in places and the rough winds of Scotland soughed through the castle. The broken areas were roped off, but something like that had never stopped Potter, of course.

It seemed almost natural for Severus to catch him. It happened on a Thursday: it was long past midnight and Severus had been on his way to his quarters – they were no longer situated near the old Slytherin house, since that area was still rather inhospitable. A strange shuffling noise caught Severus' attention and made him draw his wand. He turned into the next hallway instead of continuing straight on to where his bottle of Firewhisky and his bed were waiting for him. More than ready to hex whoever was lurking in the shadows into the next millennium, Severus whirled around the next corner – and saw to his disgust that it was none other than Potter, who was wandering forlornly through the empty corridor. 

"Potter!" Severus yelled. Potter turned around. With faint surprise Severus noted that Potter had very much not drawn his own wand – he pushed it to the back of his mind, preferring not to dwell on Potter's suicidal tendencies. "What the fuck are you doing here?" Half past two was no longer a time where Severus had the patience to be careful in picking his vocabulary.

Potter shrugged. "Walking."

"I can see that," Severus snarled. "But why are you doing that in the middle of the night? Why here?"

"I can't sleep."

"Well, you can't roam the hallways like one of the Bloody Baron's ghosts, either." Severus put away his wand, but stepped up to Potter, over whom he still towered. Potter didn't even flinch.

"Why not?"

Potter sounded so indifferent that Severus wanted to slap some sense into him. Instead he ground his teeth and said: "Because you have classes tomorrow and students belong in their beds at this time of night."

Potter looked up at him. His eyes had this insolent look about them that Severus had expected, yet the curl of Potter's lips – the one that told onlookers how much Potter thought of himself and how little of everyone else – was missing. Severus had grown so accustomed to it that he wasn't quite sure he liked that it wasn't there anymore. 

"Yeah, well, teachers have classes tomorrow, too, and yet here you are," Potter said.

Severus forced himself not to whip out his wand. "30 points from –"

"Do you think I really care about you deducting points from Gryffindor?" The bloody cheek of that little bastard. 

"Your classmates care."

Potter shrugged. "They won't bother me about any missing points. They hardly talk to me at all. So go ahead, deduct all you want. Besides, I don't think the school rules say anything about students in their 8th year walking around after hours, so technically you can't deduct points for that."

"I can, however, deduct points for cheek. And besides, there are rules for students who are of age –"

"There are, probably. But the situation is a bit different now, isn't it?"

Severus sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Fuck, Potter, can't you – just for once – be anything other than troublesome?" He wanted his Firewhisky, he wanted his bed and he wanted his peace. And yet here they were, standing in a draughty hallway, arguing.

Potter shrugged. "Wouldn't know how. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some more _roaming_ to do."

Before Severus had really thought about what he was doing, he'd grabbed Potter by the arm and started pulling him down the hallway. "Oh no, you won't. No more roaming for you."

"Let go!" Potter struggled against Severus' pull, but only feebly. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you to my chambers. I'm not about to let you wander around any longer – most likely you'd disturb some creature that has crept in from the Forbidden Forest and would only be too happy to eat you alive. Or you'd stumble over some rubble and break your idiot neck. I won't have you die somewhere in the castle and have people tell me it's my fault."

Severus unlocked his door with a wave of his hand, and pushed Potter inside. Before Potter had much time to do anything than gape, Severus quickly produced two glasses and filled them half-full with whisky. He pressed one in Potter's hand. "Drink up, before I think about this some more and realise what a bloody stupid idea this is." Potter drank.

******

In hindsight, Severus found that it was that night that spurred everything on. Potter's visit to his chambers hadn't been a single occurrence and once Potter had realised that Severus wouldn't chuck him out when he came visiting, those visits became a regular thing. Severus would offer Potter a drink and they would talk. And sometimes they would just sit there, staring into the fireplace, and remembering.

After a while, Potter didn't only seek him out at night. Potter would come by Severus' classroom after classes had ended for the day and he'd watch Severus grade papers or brew potions. Occasionally, he'd even chop some ingredients, but mostly he would just sit there, watching. And Severus didn't mind. At all.

Then one day, as spring was just around the corner, Potter came by as he now so often did. Severus was no longer surprised to see him, but he certainly hadn't counted on Potter spelling the door closed. Nor had he anticipated that Potter would push him up against the blackboard with a gentle press of his hand. At first Potter just came closer and their breaths mixed. Potter had long eyelashes, Severus noticed. His nose seemed a little crooked, too. And Potter had chapped lips. It was then that Potter kissed him. Potter felt like he belonged, like their lips were made to kiss each other. Almost unconsciously, Severus wrapped his arms around Potter and pulled him closer – one hand on the back of Potter's neck, the other in the small of Potter's back. Potter tasted like treacle tart and whisky, like fresh snow and burnt toast. He tasted glorious.

******

They hadn't fucked then. They hadn't fucked the next couple of times either, no matter how hard they got, no matter how good it felt to press up against each other. Severus told himself it was because of ethics and morals – he was a teacher, Potter was his student. But Potter was of age and as long as there was consent... but no. No, this was something he couldn't do.

His resolve lasted until Beltane. 

The Beltane festivities had the whole school in a tizzy. Along with parents and teachers, the school board had decided that reviving old traditions might give the students – might give all of them – something to hold on to. Plays were organised and lessons were centred on the rites. Hagrid readied huge bonfires in front of the school and the house elves were kept even busier than usual in the kitchens preparing for the feast. Someone had suggested re-enacting the complete rites with a May Queen and a Green Man, but Severus as well as Minerva had voted against it – it would only lead to students going at it all over school. Instead they were to have a feast and celebrations with mead for those who were old enough and butterbeer for the rest. There would be dancing and a band and the festivities would be suitable for all ages –

And he hadn't counted on Potter being... well, Potter. Potter found him near the fires. Severus had decidedly not been looking for him, had not tried to spot him amongst the dancers, amongst those swaying with their peers or amongst those that tried to steal away for something more private. He'd very much not kept a jealous eye out, wondering whether Potter might just decide that someone his own age might be more appropriate to hump. Instead, he had sipped his mead and had not thought about how Potter's face might look in the shine of the fire or about how Potter had tasted last time they'd kissed. Or how Potter's cock had felt through their robes, pressed against Severus' leg. Or how being with Potter, strangely and despite everything, made him forget about all the bad that had happened.

But Potter found him, eventually, and took Severus' hand in his and _squeezed_. Potter didn't even say anything – didn't need to – but led Severus away from the fires to a deserted spot where Moonlight Flowers grew. Absentmindedly, Severus cast a quick privacy spell. This wouldn't be just another snogging session, he knew, but his resolve to stop this – to stop _them_ – was gone. Maybe it had burned in those Beltane bonfires, Severus thought, feeling lightheaded. When Potter pushed him down onto the ground, he went with it, heart thudding hard against his ribcage. 

Severus pulled Potter closer, not wanting to let go. Their tongues danced with each other like the dancers near the fire, brushing, touching, and then moving away again. The stubble on their chins chafed their skin, but Severus relished the feeling. He lifted his hand, stroked Potter's cheek and smiled before kissing him again. 

They shed their clothes slowly. First the robes, then the shirts. Their trousers were last – Potter wore nothing underneath. For a moment, Severus just stared, then he moved his hand up Potter's leg and touched his hard cock almost hesitantly. Potter closed his eyes and sighed, his head tilted back. Severus swiped his thumb over the tip and wet his fingers with precome before starting to stroke Potter. Soon enough Potter's legs were quivering.

"Severus, please," he begged. It was the use of his first name that made Severus flip them around – Potter on his back, legs spread. A quick spell covered Severus' fingers with lube and he pushed in first one, then two. From the sounds and the face Potter made – the expression caught between pain, pleasure and surprise – it was his first time, but Severus couldn't ask, couldn't stop now. Whatever doubts he had vanished when Potter begged him, again. 

Once Potter had writhed against the third finger, Severus covered his own dick with lube and pushed in carefully. The tightness of Potter's arse took his breath away. He waited until Potter tugged on his arm and then he started to move. He went slowly at first, but as soon as Potter moaned for the first time, he was gone. He fucked him hard and fast. Potter kept spilling "Severus!" from his lips, urging him on, while he jerked himself off to the rhythm of Severus' thrusts. Then Severus' arms and legs started tingling and he knew he was close – and as he pushed in again and again, the feeling raced up his legs and _exploded_ in his crotch.

"Fuck!" He sank down onto Potter – no, it had to be Harry now – onto Harry, whose stomach was wet with semen, and tried to catch his breath. "Fuck." Harry stroked his back and pressed a kiss to Severus' collar bone.

******

Every year they would repeat this night – making love in the middle of Moonlight Flowers. Each year, their coupling there would grow in meaning – while at first it was an anniversary of their relationship, it soon turned to something more. They included the old rites of Beltane in their moonlit nights, where the May Queen and the Green Man would make an appearance. Eventually, they chose to marry on a Beltane night as well, knowing they would be forever linked to Beltane, one way or another.

******

The End


End file.
